The Bad Guy

Dad stood beside the grave long after everyone had gotten into their cars and left the cemetery. I stood next to him, unsure if I should say something. Low clouds hovered overhead, promising rain but never delivering.

The gravediggers leaned against a mausoleum in the distance, smoking and talking, but most of all, waiting. As soon as we left, they’d finish the job of burying my mother.

I had a lacrosse match with the boys from town in a couple of hours. If we didn’t leave soon, I’d miss it. I had to say something. “Dad?”

He didn’t respond. The heavy silence weaved between us, straining what had always seemed like an unbreakable bond. His rhyme played through my mind: When in doubt, wait it out. Emotions will always show what they’re about.

Another ten minutes passed, and even the gravediggers fell silent and simply watched us.

“When I first saw her, she was with another man. Did you know that?”

“No.” I’d never asked about their life before me. It didn’t seem relevant.

“She had a boyfriend. He was popular, smart, richer than I was at the time. We all went to college together.” He smiled, and I was certain it was the sort of smile that meant he was sad but had a happy memory. “I saw her at a dance. We still had those back then. Awkward, terrible affairs really. But not the night I saw her. She was on his arm, smiling and laughing with some other couples that had gathered around them just to soak up all the glory that shone off her like a beam of light.”

“What did you do?”

“I decided that she was going to be mine.” He wiped at his eyes.

“Makes sense.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “It did. It sure did. So I asked her on a date. She turned me down.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” His smile returned. “She told me she had a boyfriend and wouldn’t go behind his back.”

“What did you do?”

“The next time I saw them on campus, I walked right up to him and punched his lights out.”

I looked at him, unsure if he was serious. My dad barely raised his voice, much less a fist.

“I did.” He nodded. “I laid him out right there on the quad.”

“What did she do?”

“She called me a psycho and said she never wanted to see me again.”

“Oh.” That didn’t turn out quite like I expected. “So how did you two end up together?”

“After that, I did little things for her. Left her notes, took her flowers, sent her letters over the summer. I never missed a week. I’d send one like clockwork.”

“And it worked?”

“It took a little over a year, but eventually, she saw me on campus and walked over to me.” He laughed. “She said, ‘You sure are persistent.’ I said, ‘When something’s worth it, there’s no other way to be.’ We were married a year later. And now—” His voice failed on a sob.

I wrapped my arm around his waist. “And now, you’re still in love, but she’s gone.”

“Yes.”

“And it hurts you?”

“Yes.”

“Was it worth it?”

“What do you mean?” He swiped at his face once more with his handkerchief and tucked it in his pocket.

“Was the time you had with her worth all this pain you’re feeling now?”

He stared down at the dark casket as the promised rain finally began to fall. “No question about it.”

Timothy climbed out of the car and walked toward us, but I couldn’t look at anything except Camille. Her sad eyes peering up at me, the fear written across her expressive features. What had been a fissure inside me opened into a chasm that could only be filled by her. But in order to get what I wanted, I’d have to let her go.

I held my hand out to her. She took it, and I pulled her off the ATV and into my embrace. Her arms hung loosely at her sides as she trembled.

“Camille, please, don’t be afraid.” I’d never cared if someone feared me. I rather enjoyed it, actually, but not Camille. Never her.

“What are you going to do to me?” Her whisper carried a dread that settled inside me like a weight.

“I’m going to set you free.” Just saying the words ripped me apart.

She stepped back and stared up at me. “Don’t taunt me.”

“It’s not a taunt.” It’s my death sentence.

“You’re just going to let me ride out of here?” She glanced behind her at Timothy standing in front of the limo.

“No.”

Her knees buckled, and I caught her before she hit the pavement. Scooping her into my arms, I held her close and walked toward the helicopter. “You’re going to fly out of here.”

She shook her head. “This isn’t real.”

“It is.”

“I poisoned you.”

“You thought you did.”

“But the hemlock—”

“Did you really think you could order a lethal plant and I wouldn’t know about it?”